


The Case of the French Tickler

by whispersofafangirl



Series: Sherlock and Abby [4]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Fluff, Masturbation, Roleplay, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:59:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispersofafangirl/pseuds/whispersofafangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Note: While doing the 30 day OTP Challenge, I ended up creating a little fic within the challenge. I am using some of the prompts to create this little silly story for fun. Also sorry but there is no mystery in this one :)</p><p>Sherlock has a case that involves going to a couple's sex therapy getaway weekend. John refuses to go so he drags Abigail along so he can solve the case. He truly thinks she won't want to stay but Abigail has been tricked enough by the detective. The great detective gets more than what he bargains for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Revenge is Sweet

 

 

  
  


“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Abigail said. “I mean.... this is such a big surprise. Four nights in a bed and breakfast, just me and you... no cases.” She looked at Sherlock with largest smile he had ever seen on her face. “Oh thank you. You’re such a wonderful boyfriend.”

 

Sherlock shifted in the train seat. “Abigail, I realize that you are excited about this but...”

 

Abigail narrowed her eyes, “But?”  She shook her head, “ I knew there was a catch. You’re on a case, aren’t you? Why in the world am I going with you and not John?”

 

“John wouldn’t go. He said that Mary wouldn’t appreciate him going on a couples retreat with me,” Sherlock said.

 

“Couples retreat?” Abigail asked. “We’re going to a retreat on a case?”

 

Sherlock handed her the brochure. “Yes. It’s a simple case should only take a day then we can return to London.”

 

Abigail huffed. “You made me pack for long weekend,” she said. “And this...” she opened the brochure which detailed the intimate experience that couples would have during their stay. “There’s couples therapy and .... how to reignite your love life sessions. Sherlock, we can’t just go to this for you to solve a case. These couples may be in trouble and need help. You can’t disregard the sanctity of therapy. Doing this could result in some harm to innocent couples,” Abigail said. “I won’t do it.”

 

Sherlock waved his hand, “John said the same thing. Said it was crossing some line. Honestly, Abigail, we will be in and out by the end of the day, no one will know or care.”  
  
“And what about my weekend away?”

 

“We’ll take a holiday another time, promise,” he said smugly as he patted her leg.

 

“No, we will not. I’m staying,” Abigail said. “You can go home alone.”

 

Sherlock laughed, “That’s ridiculous. It’s a couples retreat, Abby. You can not stay alone.”

 

“Watch me.” Abigail gave him the look. The look that perfectly conveyed, ‘I’m sick and tired of your bullshit and you’re going to pay for this’.

 

Abigail didn’t ask what the case was even about. She didn’t care. They spent the next several hours in silence until they reached their destination.

 

The bed and breakfast was a beautiful, old farmhouse that sat on several acres of land of English countryside. When they went inside to check  in, they were greeted by an older couple who coordinated the retreat.

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Holmes?” the polite, whimsically dressed woman asked.

 

“Oh no,” Abigail started to correct her but Sherlock interrupted her.

 

“Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes,” Sherlock said. “Sherlock and Abigail.”

 

Abigail’s mouth dropped open. She fought every urge in her to pummel him right in front of the coordinators.

 

They were given a short introduction to the weekend and were handed the schedule and their room key. They were also told to report to the meeting room in an hour for introductions.

 

The room was like a romantic honeymoon suite. An antique four-poster bed was the centerpiece of the beautiful room. A deep burgundy,  satin bedspread lay across the big bed seductively.  There was a dozen red roses on the table and candles scattered all around the room.  Abigail practically swooned as soon as she walked in until she remembered that it wasn’t Sherlock’s idea.

She walked into the bathroom and saw that it had a large claw-foot tub that looked like it could hold two. If it hadn’t been a trick, it would have been the perfect getaway, Abigail thought.

 

“Abigail, are you going to be cross with me the entire day?” Sherlock finally asked as he set down the luggage.

 

“Yes,” she replied as she walked over to a large basket that was sitting on the bed. She started to rummage through it, pulling out lotion and bubble bath, candles, and then some rather interesting items. “Oh,” she quietly muttered as her hand reached a big selection of sex toys.

 

Sherlock watched with great interest as she pulled out a small vibrator from the basket and then one by one, a variety of sex toys from a blindfold to a pair of ridiculous fuzzy handcuffs. He wondered for a moment if she even knew what some of the other items were. “Still going to stay by yourself?”

 

Abigail picked up the vibrator, “Yes. I think I can manage on my own.”

 

Sherlock turned around so he could hide his smirk. He knew he deserved it.

 

The hour of introductions involved everyone introducing themselves and being told about the privacy agreement. Abigail shot Sherlock a stern look as each one signed a document that everything that happened would remain private.

 

“So Abigail, can you tell us why you and Sherlock decided to attend the retreat?”

 

Abigail smiled, “Sure. I think we need to work on our communication skills,” she said. “And let’s face it, spicing up the sex life wouldn’t hurt,” she said with a wink which made some of the women giggle.

  
“You’ve never once complained,” Sherlock announced loudly, annoyed that she would say something like that in front of strangers.

 

Tabitha, the coordinator, looked at Sherlock, “Well, what do you hope to achieve this weekend?”

 

Abigail glanced nervously at Sherlock but he played his part perfectly. “I’d like to see her get a bit more adventurous in the bedroom,” he said, turning to her and smirking.

 

Abigail lifted an eyebrow. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or if he was just acting. “Well it sounds like both of you are on the same page,” Tabitha said.

 

Tabitha went on to explain the schedule. Each morning there would be a class for the couples and then separately for the men and women that would touch on techniques. There would be “play time” in the afternoon for a few hours where you could work on your assignments. Private counseling took place daily as well. Abigail looked at the schedule in her hand and got even more upset that this wasn’t real. It genuinely looked like fun to her.

 

Sherlock looked at her and quickly deduced how hurt she was at this point. He touched her hand, wanting to hold it but she pulled it away.

 

Tabitha walked around and handed each person an envelope with their name on it. “Now, I know most of you are tired after travelling but here’s a small assignment you can complete before supper tonight.”

 

Abigail sat on their bed and opened the envelope.

 

Sit down and write at least two sexual fantasies you have that you’ve never told your partner about. Fold it up, put it back in the envelope, and return it to me at supper.

 

“What does it say?” Sherlock asked.

  
“Does it matter? You’re leaving,” Abigail replied. “What does yours say?” she asked.

 

Sherlock opened the envelope and read his card out loud. It was the same as Abigail’s.

 

“Mine is the same,” she said.

 

Ten minutes of silence went by. Abigail didn’t budge from the bed. Sherlock paced a little, no doubt thinking about the case. “I’ve solved the case,” he announced, looking very pleased with himself.

 

“Good for you.” She didn’t want to ask how; it would have given him too much satisfaction to brag about it.

 

“Abby, you don’t actually want to stay and discuss our sex life with complete strangers, do you?”

 

“I wanted a weekend away with you. Lots of sex, lots of quiet moments.Perhaps some romance. Seems to me that this fits that description,” she replied. “So either you can stay and we can have lots of crazy sex together or you can leave and I’ll be furious for a long time and use the vibrator all weekend.”

 

“I only have those two choices?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Fine.” Sherlock sat down, pulled out a pen and wrote on the small piece of paper, folded it up and then handed Abigail the pen. “Your turn and remember, this was your idea.”

 

“No, remember this is your fault,” she corrected him. Abigail took the pen and wrote three things.

 

Sherlock tilted his head. “Three things?” he asked.

 

“Stop trying to cheat,” she said as she folded the paper and put it back into the envelope. “How many did you write?”

 

“Two.”

 

Supper went well, relatively speaking. Abigail made Sherlock swear he wouldn’t announce anyone’s dirty laundry or deduce why the other couples were there. The envelopes were turned in and the men were asked to go in a separate room to talk to Tabitha’s husband, Richard.

 

“Okay, ladies, while the men are chatting about romance, I just want to say a few things,” Tabitha said. “I need each of you to be open-minded when I hand you your partner’s slips. No judging- they are being told the same thing. You don’t have to do anything you do not want to nor do you have to do it tonight. Maybe you need some suggestions or guidance- which I’m hoping I can provide you with these next few days. I’m giving you these now so you can start thinking of a plan.”

 

When Tabitha reached Abigail, she looked at the paper and quickly handed it to her. Abigail was terrified of what it might say. Sherlock was not predictable in situations like this.

 

Nurse Abigail. Teasing her while she is tied to the bed.

 

Abigail read the card three more times just to make sure she was reading it correctly. Nurse Abigail perplexed her the most- where did that come from?

 

At the same time, the men were handed their cards and before they opened them, Richard sternly warned them that under no circumstances were they allowed to tease their partners about any of the contents. Joking about fantasies was off-limits at the retreat.

  
Sherlock didn’t appreciate Richard looking at Abigail’s fantasies one bit. He snatched it out of his hand and looked at the card.

 

Professor Holmes catches me cheating on a test. Spanking. You give me a real massage.

 

Sherlock nodded. The man next to him tried to peek at the slip but Sherlock quickly folded it and put it in his pocket. “I think you should worry about your own wife’s desire to be spanked like a petulant child,” he whispered to the shocked man.

 

“Gentlemen, let’s make sure we focus on intimacy this weekend. Not only intercourse. So when you go back up to your rooms, perhaps draw them a nice bubble bath. Offer to rub their feet. Be romantic, they deserve it.”

 

Abigail and Sherlock headed up to their room. “What did Tabitha say?” he asked.

 

Abigail kicked off her shoes. “Uhh...that we should keep an open mind. And if there was anything on the card we weren’t sure how to do, we could ask her for guidance.”

 

Sherlock smirked, “Anything on the card you need guidance on?”

 

“No,” Abigail said, yawning as she started to unpack some of her clothes. She pulled out her nightgown and laid it on the bed.

 

“Do you want to take a bath?” Sherlock offered. “I could... run one for you.”

 

Abigail turned around, “No... no thank you,” she said, surprised at his offer. “Honestly, I’m pretty tired.”

 

Abigail got changed and crawled into bed. “Are you coming to bed soon?” she asked.

  
Sherlock shook his head, “I’m going to go take a shower first,” he explained. A very cold shower, he thought. 


	2. Spooning

 

Abigail laid in bed, listening to Sherlock take a shower. The door was partially open, letting the bathroom light brighten the dark room.  Not only was she still angry with him that he deceived her but she was worried that forcing them to stay would cause more issues. What was she thinking? There was no turning back now, she thought. If she backed out now, he would win and sometimes even Sherlock needed to lose a fight.

 

Sherlock stood in the shower, contemplating why he was so turned on to the point that he had to relieve the tension alone in the shower. He looked towards the door, still partially ajar. “Stupid,” he thought. “She might hear me.”

 

Scenarios went through his mind of whether masturbation was the correct course of action with Abigail so furious at him but his aching erection demanded immediate attention. Sleep would be impossible especially sleeping next to her, he thought as his hand instinctively squeezed it.

 

Still pouting in bed, Abigail was pondering his list of fantasies. She still wasn’t sure if it was sarcasm or true. And what did he think of her list? Sherlock must have thought the Professor scenario was silly. Abigail shifted in bed as she got chills just thinking about him pretending to be an angry professor. Frustration now traded places with the anger. She looked across the room and could barely make out the basket. Vibrator, she thought.

 

She noticed that his shower was longer than usual. She got out of bed and tiptoed across the room towards the basket with the idea that she could orgasm quickly with the help of the vibrator, pausing at the bathroom door to see what exactly he was doing. The shower curtain didn’t conceal much. She easily made out  his silhouette in the shower. He was leaning over slightly with one of his hands pressed against the wall. The other hand was... Abigail’s eyes widened as soon as she realized he was jerking off in the shower.

 

As he moaned, he lifted his head and knew  it was too loud. She moved away from the door and tried her best to scurry back to bed without him being aware of her presence. He heard the floor creak and immediately knew he would never be able to finish like this, especially if she had known.  

 

Agitated, he turned the water off and got out. His eyes glanced towards the room and could see her shadow in bed. A few minutes later, he climbed into bed and listened for her breathing pattern. “Abby,” he whispered when he knew she wasn’t asleep.

  
“Yes?”

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was wrong of me to get your hopes up about a weekend holiday. Just tell me how to make it up to you.”

 

Abigail sighed. She could smell his familiar body wash and knew his hair was still damp. Her fingers were longing to run through it. “It’s fine. We have this weekend,” she managed to say.

 

Sherlock frowned. He was hoping she would realize how ridiculous it was that they were here. “Yes, I suppose we do,” he said, the annoyance clear in his tone.

 

That’s when the room to the left of them started to make noise. Clear, undeniable sounds of a couple making love filled their frustrated room. Abigail and Sherlock rolled their eyes in unison. “Perfect,” Abigail muttered.

 

“What did you say?” he asked, he didn’t hear her clearly over the woman’s moaning.

 

“I said...goodnight,” Abigail lied.

 

“No you didn’t,” Sherlock responded. “You said perfect.”

 

“Why did you ask me if you already knew?”

 

“Because I need to understand why you said it,” he replied. “Are you frustrated?”

 

“With you,” she said. It wasn’t technically a lie but a partial truth.

 

“Oh,” he mumbled, disappointed. “Abby?”

 

Abigail was quickly getting impatient. “What?”

 

The woman next door orgasmed loudly. Abigail squeezed her legs together, wishing she would stop throbbing. Sherlock felt her legs move slightly; his erection immediately returned.

 

“Sherlock? You had a question,” Abigail reminded him.

 

“We’re being stupid.”

 

“Why do you say that?” Abigail asked. “But before you answer, I need you to really think. If I hear how this whole idea is stupid, I will only get more angry.”

 

Sherlock went to open his mouth but had nothing. It was stupid, he thought. Idiotic. Obviously, their relationship didn’t need help. That particular thought made him pause. Maybe it did, he realized. “May I hold you?” he asked, backtracking on his original line of arguments.

 

The woman orgasmed again, screaming louder this time. “Yes,” Abigail replied.

 

Abigail automatically turned onto her side while Sherlock curled up behind her. He wrapped his arm around her and took a deep breath. “Spooning,” he whispered. “I love it.”

 

“More like forking right now,” she replied with a laugh.

 

Finally a smile, he thought. “Are you complaining?” he asked. “I can’t help it.”

 

“The woman next to us turning you on?” Abigail joked.

 

“God no, although I can tell you they are in our favorite position right now,” he announced.   
  
“Shhhh.... I don’t want to talk about them fucking,” Abigail said. “And I don’t need you thinking about it either.”

 

“Why? Jealous?”

 

“No, just...” Abigail started to say.

 

“Frustrated?” Sherlock whispered right in her ear, letting his hot breath hit her neck.

 

“Yes.”

 

“We could fix that.”  
  
“I’m still mad at you,” Abigail said, wiggling just a little against his throbbing erection.

  
“So? We’ve had sex while angry at each other. It’s usually helpful.”

 

Abigail grumbled. She hated that he was right. Sherlock’s hand slowly moved to her breast, finding her nipple taut. He moaned against her neck. “Abby...I need you,” he said before kissing her shoulder.

 

She couldn’t say no. She didn’t want to. He licked at her neck and all the will she had melted away. Damn him for knowing that spot, she thought as he nipped at it with his teeth.

 

“I can’t take it,” she complained. “I’m so worked up right now.”  
  
It was all he needed to hear. His hand found the hem of her nightgown and he pulled it up, exposing her naked ass. His fingers dipped between her lips, finding them as wet as he expected them to. “Sherlock,” she said again. “Please.”

 

He lifted her leg up so he could thrust into her. As soon as his cock was in her, he put her leg on top of his. They began to move together. He knew it wouldn’t last very long so he pressed his index finger against her clit, moving it slowly as they rocked together.

 

Abigail cried out as she orgasmed. Sherlock thrusted harder, pulling on her hip so he could finally have the release he so desperately needed. As he did, he pressed his mouth against her skin, concealing his moans. Relief rushed through them both.

  
Abigail put her leg down and he found her hand and held it tightly. “Goodnight my Abby,” he whispered.

 

“Goodnight Sherlock,” she said with a contented sigh.


	3. Gazing Into Each Other's Eyes

“Soul gazing will be our very first exercise,” Tabitha announced to the room. “Everyone, please take a seat on the floor. This exercise is meant to help you reconnect with your lover.”

 

Sherlock glanced at Abigail who was bursting with giddiness about forcing him through these ridiculous exercises. Practically skipping with glee, he thought as he followed her obediently to the area she chose.

 

“Now, face each other just as Richard and I are,” Tabitha explained as she sat cross-legged from her husband.  

 

Abigail sat on the floor, grinning as he sat down in front of her, mimicking the group leaders. Tabitha looked around and saw that Sherlock wasn’t as close as he should be, “Closer dear, she won’t bite,” she instructed him.

 

Sherlock grumbled then scooted forward until his knees were touching Abigail’s. “Abigail, please,” he whispered. “These so-called experts don’t know anything.”

 

Abigail rolled her eyes at him. “Keep an open mind,” she whispered back. “And stop fussing. You’ve been a royal pain all morning.” She was right too. Breakfast with the other couples was beyond intolerable. The orgasmic lady from the night before had the most irritating laugher he had ever heard.  

 

Looking around at the couples and realizing how ordinary they were. Dull. Most of them could solve their marital problems by divorcing he thought as he looked at the middle-aged bald man next to him. Porn addict. Wife is cheating on him due to horrible halitosis and lack of understand of basic female anatomy.

 

Abigail tapped his knee. “Hey, stop that,” she said.

 

She knew him too well. “I can’t just stop from doing that,” he responded.

 

Tabitha cleared her throat to try to stop everyone from talking. “So what we will do each day while you are here is sit like this, right hand on your partner’s heart and your left on their hand.”

 

Abigail tentatively reached out to put her hand on his heart. He put his hand over hers, recognizing a faint tremble in her fingertips. Nervous. He planted his hand firmly over her heart. Heartbeat elevated. Breathing rate faster than usual.

 

“Why are you nervous?” Sherlock whispered.

 

“Shhh,” Abigail replied, not taking her eyes off of Tabitha who was droning on about the chemical process your body goes through when you look into your lover’s eyes.

 

“Now for the next two minutes, I want you to relax your face and try to look into your partner’s eyes without looking away. Try to resist the urge to giggle, I know it’s difficult,” she said. “But if you remember, when you fell in love with them, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of them. This exercise will help you reconnect with those feelings. Now, let’s get started.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes hadn’t left Abigail’s face the entire time that Tabitha was explaining the exercise. He waited for her to finally look at him. When she finally did, he could see the hesitation. Worry. His eyes remained fixated on her dark brown eyes that reminded him of koroit opal. Deep brown with flecks of golden colors. She was being deliberately evasive, he thought.

 

Staring into Abby’s eyes had to be one of the easiest things for him to do. Something that would never make him feel uncomfortable. The look on her face made him pause. Slightly frowning. Fingers still trembling. Eyes moving about. Blinking is normal.

 

Sherlock pressed his hand against hers tighter.

 

After the two minutes ended, Abigail looked away first. Sherlock searched her face for more understanding but couldn’t figure it out. Richard started to talk about other exercises as he passed out a slip of paper to each couple. On the paper was the next exercise that the couples were to perform in private.

 

Once in the privacy of their room, Sherlock watched as Abigail sat on the bed and looked at the paper. “What does it say to do?” he asked, sitting on the bed next to her.

 

“Says to repeat the exercise and tell each other things they love about the other,” she said with a shrug. “We don’t have to do it.”

 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Oh no you don’t, you wanted to stay. We will be completing all exercises.” He needed to get to the bottom of this.

 

After some pushing, he was able to get Abigail to sit cross-legged in front of him on the bed. “I will go first,” he volunteered. “You are incredibly brave.”

 

She looked confused. “Me? No, I am not.”

 

“No arguing. Your turn.”

 

“You’re protective of me,” Abigail said, struggling to keep her eyes on him again.

 

“Abigail, why is this so difficult for you?” Sherlock asked. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Don’t you know... “  
  
“No, I don’t. So tell me,” Sherlock said.

 

“You see everything. When I look at you, I only see 10% of what you see when you look at me. Knowing that is... well, difficult.”  
“That’s not true,” Sherlock replied. His hands now cupped both of hers, holding them steady in between them. “You see more than everyone. You’ve accepted me since day one. Abigail, it is utterly ridiculous to think this way.”

 

Sherlock paused to consider his next move. “You’re resilient.” he continued.

 

Abigail looked at him, the very things he loved her for were the same things she doubted in herself. “You’re the smartest man I will ever know.”

 

Sherlock smiled. “Too easy,” he said. “You’re beautiful.”

 

Back and forth, they spoke of things that hadn’t been said before. She loved how he would put his hand on the small of her back while they walked. He loved her cooking, specifically how she had perfected soft boiled eggs just for him.

 

“You are more observant than you give yourself credit for. Our brains work differently, Abby. You cannot make that comparison. It would be like me expecting to play cello as well as you.”

 

Abigail gave him a small grin, pleased with the compliment. “You are right.”

 

“We have two more hours,” he whispered. “Have any ideas of how we should pass the time?”

 

Abigail searched his face and knew exactly what he wanted. “I think I know what you would like to do,” she whispered back before leaning over to kiss him softly on the lips.

 

His hand cupped the back of her head as they kissed. “I’ve taught you my methods well,” he murmured back to her.


	4. Doing Something Together

You Can't Always Get What You Want

 

Sherlock managed to survive a couples’ class called “Pleasing Her Orally”. Abigail, he noted, found the entire thing completely humorous and spent most of the time making faces to try and persuade him to laugh. It never worked. Instead, he suffered through other men’s revelations of just what oral sex should involve. Their revelations were what made him roll his eyes – how could grown men not understand the female anatomy that they so claimed to love?

 

Dinner was dull, of course. Sherlock had zero desire to have any sort of small talk with any of them. Even Abigail, still smug over her victory of the weekend, was annoying him. After dinner, the men and women were separated again. Sherlock gave Abigail a pleading look, silently begging her to let him off the hook. She just waved goodbye as she followed the other women into their room.

 

“Gentlemen, I hope you’ve considered what fantasy you will make happen for your wives tonight,” Richard said, once the men were alone. “I want to remind you that you need to be bold. Full of self-confidence. Remember, they love you.”

 

Meanwhile, the ladies were made to promise that, no matter how ridiculous the men’s efforts were, they were to be supportive and loving. “They will never try something new if you don’t encourage them in the proper way,” Tabitha announced. “Now, go have a lovely evening.”

 

By the time Abigail got back to the room, Sherlock was already there, sitting on the bed. She looked at him, realizing he was annoyed and restless. Which could only mean one thing – he didn’t want to go through with her idea.

 

“Why Professor?” Sherlock asked as soon as Abigail sat down on the bed next to him.

 

Abigail blinked and began to stammer, “I... well...”

 

“You’re embarrassed?” he asked, with a hint of accusation.

 

“No,” Abigail said, finding some courage deep down to face the man who could make murderers confess in three questions. “And don’t interrogate me. I thought they made that clear,” she replied, fiddling with her hair. “It’s just a fantasy.”

 

“There is reason behind it though. You had a handsome professor in university...” he said, watching her face closely. “Yes... I knew it. You slept with him,” he announced loudly.

 

“NO. Stop it,” Abigail said, now getting angry. “I never once slept with any of my professors.”

 

Sherlock smirked, “Yes, I know.”

 

Abigail bit her lip. “Stop being such a prick. I could have. He certainly offered,” she said, baiting him into her game.

 

“Oh, he offered... tried to woo you,” Sherlock said, unamused.

 

“Woo? God, no. Seduce,” Abigail corrected, smirking at the way his face grimaced at her words. Yes, even Abigail could win sometimes.

 

“Oh, so this professor... he attempted to seduce you, and you turned him down, but you have, in fact, spent how many years regretting that you did so?” Sherlock said, making it sound ridiculous. He expected her to say no, but she wouldn’t give in.

 

“Regret, no. Thought about, yes,” Abigail admitted freely. He could play his interrogator game and she could play hers. “But... I’d prefer you to fulfill this particular kink that I have,” she whispered, her fingers now playing at his top button.

 

Sherlock’s eyebrow arched. Kink. The word echoed in his head several times. He loved when she used a new word. It was like a puzzle piece. “Why?” he asked.

 

Abigail tilted her head, “Well because I’m not sure if Professor Harmon would let me take him up on his offer 10 years later.”

 

“He’d be a bloody fool not to,” Sherlock said.

 

Abigail smiled, “Well, thank you, but you know that I only want you.”

 

“You want me to pretend to be someone I’m not,” Sherlock corrected her.

 

“No, I want to play a sexy, silly game with you. There is a difference,” she retorted. “Besides, you wrote “Nurse Abigail” on your request slip. What is the difference?”

 

“I just wrote that down to make you happy,” he admitted.

 

“Sherlock! You were supposed to take it seriously,” Abigail said, dropping her hands from his buttons. “What am I supposed to do now?”

 

“You were actually going to pretend to be a nurse because you felt it would fulfill some random sexual fantasy I have?” Sherlock asked, surprised she would have even considered playing that game with him.

 

“Yes! Tabitha was even going to help me get the outfit,” Abigail said, now livid with him. “But I’m glad you told me before I could humiliate myself in front of you. You probably would have been in hysterics.”

 

“I wouldn’t have laughed,” he replied, completely aware of Abigail’s anger.

 

“Don’t lie, Sherlock.”

 

“Fine. You are correct; I would have laughed.”

 

Abigail sighed and was silent for a few moments. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.” She reached over and took his hand into hers, squeezing it gently. “I’m curious though... don’t you think of, I don’t know... scenarios of us?”

 

Sherlock looked straight ahead, not allowing her to read his face. “Sometimes, I suppose.”

 

“Tell me.” Abigail’s words were a pleading whisper, asking him to let her in.

 

Sherlock cleared his throat, “I usually just think about things we’ve done. I have excellent recall of our past dalliances.”

 

“I have no doubt,” Abigail said with a laugh.

 

“Besides the professor fantasy,” he said, with heavy sarcasm on ‘professor’, “What other scenarios do you think of?”

 

“Ohhhh... lots. The policeman’s outfit,” she said, her eyes lighting up a bit. “Professor... Doctor... oh there are so many,” she said, much to his dismay. “Sometimes, I even pretend what it might have been like to be your first.”

 

“You think about sex more than I thought you did,” Sherlock said. The virgin scenario secretly pleased him, because he had often thought of the same thing.

 

“Is that bad?” Abigail asked, her eyebrows scrunched up in worry. It was difficult to tell if Sherlock was judging her based on her admissions or not.

 

“No. It’s normal,” he said, not wanting her to feel shame about her sexuality. “The virgin one is something I have considered in great detail.”

 

“Really? Am I the virgin or are you?”

 

“I’ve considered both scenarios. They are equally intriguing.”

 

“The professor thing is the same way,” Abigail explained. “It’s the same thing, darling.”

 

Sherlock brought her hand up to his lips to kiss it. “I understand now.”

 

“Good,” Abigail said, kissing his cheek. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

 

Sherlock watched as she headed into the bathroom and began to think of his options. It felt forced to him, which made it seem even more pointless. Wouldn’t Abigail appreciate spontaneity? It would be much more fun if he caught her off guard, and he was quite certain she was in the bathroom right now, fully expecting to emerge to a Professor Holmes.

 

The shower started, and he could hear her humming an old Beatles song. He smirked as he went around and lit candles. So cliché, he thought, but proceeded to turn the room into a romance saturated cliché – the finishing touch being rose petals on the bed. Sherlock changed out of his clothes and into his comfortable pajamas. Yes, Abigail would get something on that list, but not what she really wanted... yet.

 

Abigail trembled with excitement as she dried off; she was certain she had convinced him to play along. With her nightgown on and hair still in a wavy, wet mess, she opened the door to find a scene she wasn’t expecting.

 

“Oh wow,” she said, as she looked around. “It’s lovely.”

 

Sherlock smiled as he saw the vague disappointment flash across her face. “Well, I do believe you indicated you’d like a massage,” he announced. “Fortunately, I found some rather expensive, pleasant-smelling oil in the basket.” He held up the bottle like she had won a prize.

 

“Oh yes... this will be nice,” she said, doing her best to smile.

 

“Take off the nightgown and lay down.”

 

Abigail climbed onto the bed to lie on her stomach and quickly found herself straddled by Sherlock. “Be gentle,” she whispered. The last time he had offered to rub her sore shoulders, he had forgotten his strength.

 

Sherlock drizzled oil down her back and began to rub her skin with tenderness. Abigail moaned as he hit each sore muscle and managed to work out any tension that lingered in her body. “Keep doing this and I’ll fall asleep,” she said, her voice soft with dreamy euphoria.

 

“Turn over,” he said.

 

Abigail turned over and looked up at him. “I have a small request,” she mumbled.

 

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

 

“Would it be too much to ask if you at least removed your shirt? I mean... if you’re comfortable with it,” she said, sounding very unsure of herself.

 

Sherlock took off his shirt without comment and laid it to the side before squirting oil all over her chest. She squirmed at the chill hitting her naked body. “Sorry, I suppose it was a bit cold that time,” Sherlock said.

 

He reached for her, hesitating slightly as he considered just where he should start on this side. Abigail glanced up and giggled, “Sherlock, just do it.”

 

The one thing he had neglected to consider was just how wonderful her warm, slick skin would feel under his fingertips. Every inch of her breasts were glistening with oil, and the candlelight almost made them sparkle. Sherlock sighed as he watched her nipples grow taut with excitement.

 

His eyes flicked up to hers, but she had already closed them, and so he smoothed his fingertips over her, leaving trails of oil all across her chest. He felt her hips move involuntarily as he came closer to her nipples, and he couldn’t refrain from teasing. As his hands glided over her skin, he purposely let his index fingers slip over them. Abigail gasped.

 

She finally opened her eyes to look at him, but he was looking down at his own hands, watching them with great interest as they teased her over and over again. Finally, she reached out to him and pressed her hand against his thigh. “Sherlock,” she pleaded softly.

 

He looked up at her and then grabbed the oil again to squirt it on her lower belly. “Oh god,” she moaned, knowing exactly what he was going to do.

 

Using only his fingertips, he spread the oil to her hip bones then to the top of her lips. The wait was torturing Abigail. She lifted her hips up and moaned as he let his index finger slip between her lips. He took his time spreading the oil, and Abigail was pleading out of frustration by the time he finally found her clit and began to slowly circle it.

 

“You tease,” she moaned out loudly. “Oh god, yesss... harder,” she begged.

 

Sherlock circled faster and with more pressure, bringing her to the very edge, and then paused intentionally to frustrate her more.

 

“Dammit, Sherlock, let me come,” Abigail pleaded, moving her own hand toward herself.

 

“No,” Sherlock said, pushing her hand away. “I like teasing you. You are just on the edge. In fact... if I pinch you here,” he said, rolling her nipple in his fingers and pulling it up slightly, “And if I begin this again,” he continued, finally returning his index finger to her clit and looking closely at her face, “One minute.. perhaps less.”

 

Thirty-two seconds passed before Abigail was screaming out his name, finally experiencing the release she so desperately needed.

 

“Dammit Sherlock... “ Abigail laughed, once she had regained her thoughts. “I thought you were just going to stop completely.” Her breath was still heavy.

 

“No,” he said with a smile. “Perhaps, some other time, I will torment you in that way, but not tonight. Now switch with me. It’s my turn.”


	5. Morning Rituals

Abigail was blissfully unaware of the fact that Sherlock systematically notated each and every word she muttered in her sleep. In fact, he knew that if he woke up at approximately 5 a.m., she would be right at a specific point in her sleep cycle in which she mumbled various words. 

So almost every morning (excluding the mornings he was on a case or was busy experimenting), Sherlock’s internal clock awaken him and he would lay still in bed to listen for any sounds coming from her. He counted each breath and even looked at her eye movement to determine if she would talk in her sleep. 

Abigail knew she talked in her sleep, especially when she was overtired and stressed. If she knew Sherlock had been researching her patterns of speech, it would have embarrassed her (and would possibly creep her out just a little). 

“Sherlock,” she mumbled. 

The room was still dark so Sherlock struggled to see her face. “Yes?” he whispered back. He watched her chest rise and fall and knew she was still deep asleep.

“Vivaldi is the worst,” she muttered and shifted in bed. 

Sherlock smiled, “Indeed.”

“Bach’s better.” She grumbled and kicked her feet from under the duvet. 

“Yes, that’s my girl,” Sherlock whispered as he brushed some hair away from her eyes. 

Abigail sighed as she moved again in the bed. He realized she was moving to a period of lighter sleep. As he pulled her against him, she curled up like a little kitten without waking up. 

He was still bitter about being stuck in the bed and breakfast. Was there anything that Abigail couldn’t get him to do, he wondered. 

“Sherlock,” she repeated. 

He grinned against the back of her head. “Yes?” he whispered, very pleased with the fact she was dreaming of him. 

She didn’t say anything immediately which disappointed him until she moaned quietly, backing up against him more closely. He took a deep breath not caring as her hair tickled his face.   
“I do.”

Sherlock scrunched his face up as he pondered what it could mean. It could be a million things, he thought and brushed it off. 

As the sun rose up and filled the room with light, Abigail started to wake up. “Oh god, I slept so soundly,” she said as she rolled over and looked at him. “Good morning,” she whispered sweetly. 

“Good morning,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m glad you slept well.”

“You are always awake when I wake up,” she commented. 

“Yes, you’ve said that before,” he said, kissing her forehead. 

“Do you just lay in bed, thinking?” she asked. Her hand brushed across his warm cheek and then pushed some of his dark curls away from his face. 

“Yes,” he said. “I think you were having good dreams.”

“Oh... was I chatting again?” she asked. 

“Something about Vivaldi and Bach,” he announced with amusement.

Abigail scrunched her nose up. He watched as she tried to recall her dreams. “I don’t remember that one,” she said. “Just a wedding one but it’s blurry.”

Sherlock inhaled. “Well, probably means nothing. Let’s get up,” he said. “I think your stomach is rumbling too.”


	6. Yes, Professor Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Chapter contains bondage, spanking, and role playing. If any of this bothers you, please skip it. Otherwise, enjoy!

After lunch, Tabitha walked up to Sherlock and Abigail. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could speak to you alone, Abigail? I promise it won’t take very long,” she said with a smile.

 

“Of course,” Abigail said, giving Sherlock a worried glance. She followed Tabitha into a nearby room where they would have some privacy. “Is there problem?” Abigail asked. She was suddenly certain they had found Sherlock and Abigail out.

 

“No, not at all. I just wanted to take a moment with you and make sure the program is meeting your expectations.” Tabitha patted the space on the couch next to her. “Have you two enjoyed yourselves this weekend?”

 

“Yes, very much so,” Abigail replied with a smile as she sat down. “It’s been nice to have the weekend here without distractions.”

 

“And your husband? He’s been happy with everything too, yes?”

 

“Uh, yes, he has,” Abigail lied. She knew it was likely that Sherlock had detested every minute they spent outside of their room.

 

“That’s wonderful to hear. And, are there any lingering topics you and your husband would like to have discussed?”

 

“Erm, no, I don’t believe so,” Abigail responded.  “I think you and Richard have been quite thorough.”

 

“Excellent.” Tabitha looked down at her watch before finally standing up. “Abigail, there is one more thing,” she said as she pulled an envelope out from her jacket pocket.

 

Abigail stood up. “Yes?”

 

“Someone left a note for you,” Tabitha said as she handed her the envelope. “Hudson is your maiden name, yes?”

 

Abigail stared at the envelope; it was addressed to “Abigail Hudson”.

 

“Yes, it is... thank you,” she muttered as she started to open it, her hands trembling. If that bastard left to go home, she thought to herself as she pulled out a piece of paper.

 

Miss Hudson- Report to my office. We need to discuss your poor performance on your last biology test.

 

Abigail’s heart stopped. Was he really going to go through with it? She looked up and realized Tabitha had left. She paced back and forth several times; her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Now that she was getting what she wanted, she was terrified. “Stop it. Calm down,” she whispered. “It’s only Sherlock.” She took three deep breaths and then walked out toward the stairs.

 

As she approached the door to their room, Abigail smoothed down her skirt and pushed back the hair that was tickling her cheek. “Be calm. Play along. You wanted this, you silly girl,” Abigail scolded herself.

 

She knocked twice on the door. “Come in,” his familiar voice called out.

 

She opened the door and stepped into the doorway. Sherlock was facing away from her, looking out of the large window with his hands clasped behind his back. “Shut the door,” he ordered.

 

“Yes,” Abigail said as she closed and locked the door. “You... um... needed to see me, Sir?” she asked, her voice squeaking with nervousness.

 

“Sit,” he said, motioning to the chair next to him. Sherlock continued to look out of the window as she sat down.

 

“Miss Hudson, I am quite displeased with your performance on the biology quiz that was administered to you last class. You do realize you are in jeopardy of failing, correct?”

 

Abigail gulped. He was so skilled at playing the role that she almost felt like she was back in college. “It was very hard,” she replied, and then had to stifle a nervous giggle.

 

“You sound as if you find this humorous,” he said, leaning down and practically growling the words into her ear. “I should say that I am disappointed. You are, without question, intelligent enough to pass this class. Yet, you sit here wasting my time.” He walked away slowly and took off his jacket, hanging it on the back of another chair.

 

Abigail watched him closely as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. “So explain to me what exactly is keeping you from studying,” he said with a disappointed tone. “Having a bit too much fun?”

 

“Well, it is college. Everyone is having fun,” she said, relaxing into her role.

 

Sherlock arched an eyebrow at her. “You are here to learn, are you not?”

 

Abigail shrugged, “Yes, I suppose I am.”

 

“So what is it? A boyfriend?” he demanded. “Or too many parties distracting you? Be honest with me, Miss Hudson.”

 

“No boyfriend,” she replied. “Just out with the girls on a regular basis.”

 

“I see. Well, one more slip in my class and you will be seeing me again next semester. Is that something you would enjoy?”

 

“Is that a trick question?” she joked. “If I say no, it would suggest I don’t enjoy having you as my teacher. But I get the feeling that you would prefer not to see me next semester.”

 

“Irrelevant," he announced as he stepped closer and circled her chair."And sarcasm will only land you in deeper trouble,” He put his hand on her shoulder. “It is my belief you would benefit from some private tutelage with me.”

 

“With you?” she asked. “I figured you would assign another tutor for me.”

 

“Your assumption is incorrect. I believe a situation such as yours needs my personal attention. I have a method that I think will help you retain information more efficiently."

 

Abigail giggled until she looked up to see his stern eyes staring down at her; tingles went through her as their eyes met.  He could see the blush deepen on her cheeks, and was convinced she was already thoroughly aroused just from the conversation.

 

“Stand up,” he ordered. “I will give you a demonstration.”

 

Abigail obeyed, and he walked her to the bed, facing her toward its edge. “Put your hands down on the bed and bend over.” She did as she was told, her body trembling with anticipation. “The process is very simple," he continued. "I am going to ask a question, and you will answer it correctly. If you do not, there will be a consequence.”

 

“What sort of consequence?” she smirked.

 

“Why don’t we find out?"She felt the fabric of his trousers brush the back of her thigh as he moved closer to her."Tell me, Abigail, what is the name for the development process by which new erythrocytes are produced?”

 

Abigail scrunched up her face. Biology was her least favorite subject, and, after so many years out of school, she remembered none of it. “I don’t know,” she said.

 

“You don’t know," he sighed in disappointment."I am not surprised. This is an easy question. Basic knowledge of red blood cells.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Naughty girls who don’t study need encouragement,” he said as his hand pulled her skirt over her bum, revealing a pair of black lace panties that were one of his favorite pairs of hers. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

 

“Oh look, “ he murmured, his hot breath making her moan softly. “The naughty girl is wearing very naughty knickers. I am not surprised. Did she perhaps hope I would see her knickers today?” All she could manage was shake her head no.

 

He caressed her ass with his hand, cupping it softly. “The answer is erythropoiesis,” he announced, and then smacked her left cheek.

 

“Ow!” she cried out, not expecting him to be so rough so soon.

 

“Hmmm, let’s hope you know the next answer, because this is worth five.” He rested his hand on her lower back. “Tell me, Miss Hudson,” he began, “the erythrocytes cell membrane is comprised of a typical lipid bilayer. Tell me what two things this bilayer is composed of.”

 

“Oh god, you know I don’t know this,” Abigail whined, her anticipation causing her to ache.

 

“Miss Hudson, you will speak to me with respect. Address me properly,” he ordered.

 

“Yes, Professor Holmes,” she whispered. “I don’t know the answer, Sir.”

 

He clicked his tongue again in mock annoyance. “I’m not surprised. Cholesterol and phospholipids.” Five ruthlessly hard smacks were strategically placed on her ass.

 

Abigail gripped the duvet tightly with her hands and hissed through her teeth. Tears stung her eyes as she waited for the sharp sting to morph into a throbbing burn. “Oww,” she whispered to herself as she relaxed her grip from the bed.

 

“Miss Hudson, you should count yourself lucky that I do not have the riding crop in my possession right now. Because the next time you fail a quiz, you will experience that instead of my hand,” he said, and, without warning, he pulled down her panties to inspect her cheeks, which had turned a light pinkish color.

 

He parted her thighs with his hand, forcing her to move her legs further apart, making her feel more vulnerable. His let his hand slide up her skin and found her arousal to be so intense that her wetness had spread down to her inner thighs. He moaned as he slid his finger between her lips; her pussy was hot, wet, and so damned inviting. “It would appear that you enjoy my methods, Miss Hudson.”

 

“Yes, Professor, I do,” she said, her hips canting toward him in response to his finger sliding over her.

 

“Perhaps a little too much,” he said, pressing his free hand down on her hips to still her. His own excitement was almost painfully straining against his pants. He leaned down to whisper in her ear again. “I’ve seen you watch me in class. I know what you truly want.”

 

“You do?” she whimpered.

 

“Yes,” he responded. “The real question is: will you give me what I want?”

 

Abigail turned to look at his face, but he would not break from his character, so she had no idea what he even meant. She swallowed, feeling nervous again. “Depends on what you want, Professor.”

 

He smirked, “Do you trust me, Miss Hudson? I need your absolute trust.”

 

“Of course I do,” she said, now simultaneously worried and excited.

 

“There is a word. I would like you to use it if you feel I’ve gone too far,” he said, as he leaned down and helped her step completely out of her panties. “Fides,” he said, as he stood up.

 

“Fides?” she repeated.

 

“Yes, the latin word for trust, Miss Hudson,” he said, sounding mildly disappointed that her knowledge of Latin was lacking. “Do you understand the use of this word for our purposes?”

 

“Yes, Professor.”

 

“Remove your remaining clothes.”

 

He walked away from her as she removed her skirt, blouse, and bra. Abigail then turned to watch as he retrieved something from the desk drawer, but he kept it concealed in his hands. “Grip the column of the bed,” he ordered.

 

She looked back at the four-poster bed and then moved to the end. He stepped closer and pulled out what appeared to be a bundle of thin rope. She placed her hands loosely around the column, and he began to tie an intricate knot from her forearms to the post. Sherlock paused for a moment, reveling in the nearly intoxicating feeling provided by his domination over her.

 

“Comfortable?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she said, her voice wobbling a little. She had never done anything like this before.

 

“Are you certain?” he asked, sounding more like himself than Professor Holmes. He gently caressed her lower back, seeking reassurance that she wouldn’t panic. He could plainly see signs of worry on her face.

 

“Yes, quite certain,” she answered with an encouraging nod. He nodded briefly in return and then began again.

 

“Abigail, the number of leukocytes in blood can be an indicator of disease. There are normally how many leukocytes in a microliter of blood?”

 

Abigail frowned. “I don’t know, Professor.”

 

“Seven thousand. Spread your legs further.”

 

She shuffled her feet further apart, which forced her to bend over even more. Sherlock’s hand slid across the backs of her thighs.

 

“Please,” she begged. “Stop teasing.”

 

“No,” he responded, right before administering five more hard smacks to her ass. She lifted up onto her tip-toes, curling them with the pain, but feeling her pulse speed in anticipation at the same time.

 

Sherlock gently rubbed the handprints on her skin of her backside. His mind was spinning; this position, the rope, everything was so perfect. He couldn’t wait any longer. “I think that is enough for today’s lesson,” he said quietly as he unzipped his trousers and then slid them down, along with his pants. “But I need to make sure you have completely learned your lesson.”

 

A sigh of relief escaped Abigail’s mouth. Her entire body burned like fire, aching for this exact moment. “I understand,” she mumbled.

 

“You’ve left me no choice but to fuck you relentlessly,” he said sternly, but then groaned as he slipped the tip of his cock into her hot, wet folds.

 

She moved to her toes again and lifted her hips, beckoning him to enter her, but he took his time, making himself slick with her juices. His fingertips dug into her hips, and he pushed hard into her, making her cry out with surprise. He wasted no time, taking up a relentless pace without stopping, allowing her pleasured screams to drive him even faster. Abigail pushed her weight away from the column and deeper onto him as he ruthlessly thrusted over and over again, and she felt herself tremble as her release neared. “Oh... Oh GOD!” she finally cried out, coming so deliciously hard that she squirted her wetness out, making it drip onto the floor.

 

Sherlock leaned back to look the little droplets darkening the carpet. The details, he thought, oh how the lovely details thrilled him. He looked back to watch himself continue to thrust into her, not even slowing as she came again.

 

Her body position told him that she was near her limit. He gripped the back of her hair, pulling her back up. “God yes,” she moaned, exquisitely lost in his complete dominance over her. He bucked his hips, and she knew he was close, “Give it to me,” she cried fiercely. “I want to feel you come so deep in me.”

 

Sherlock’s familiar grunts filled the air, as he yanked her back onto him one last time. She felt him spasm deep within her, and he continued to pant and groan until his orgasm was finished. He kissed her shoulder tenderly, and then gently pulled away so he could release her from her binds.

 

Once she was free, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. She smiled up at him as he placed her on the bed and laid down next to her. They were both silent for several minutes; the only sound was their heavy breathing, gradually slowing to normal. Sherlock lifted her arms up to inspect them, verifying that he hadn’t bound her too tightly.

 

Abigail turned to nuzzle against him, laying her head on his chest. “Thank you,” she purred. “You are.... really good at that, Professor Holmes.”

 

He chuckled, and the low rumble of laughter vibrated against her. “I love you, Abby,” he whispered, before placing a kiss on her forehead.

 

Abigail moaned softly. “I love you too,” she whispered back, and then finally leaned up to kiss him.


	7. Doing Something Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter- short and unbeta'ed. 
> 
> Abigail shows some compassion.

Abigail fell asleep in Sherlock’s arms after their afternoon ‘play time’. With her head on his chest, she slept peacefully for a few hours. Dinner time and their evening classes passed by without either one of them in attendance.

 

She finally stirred around 8 pm, still in his protective arms. “Oh…. you should have woke me up,” she whispered, when she realized the room was dark.

 

“Why? You were peaceful,” he whispered back.

 

“Yes.. but we’ve missed dinner,” she said, her fingers drawing gentle circles on his arm.

 

“Yes and the classes,” he reminded her.

 

“Oh, yes. Too bad, I think I could have used a refresher performing a blow job,” she joked.

 

He laughed with her, only stopping to kiss the top of her head. “As your Professor, I can assure you that you are quite skilled in that area of expertise,” he stated.

 

“Well that is a relief,” she said. She knew he must be bored and unhappy with still being there. So, she gave in. “Would you like to go home now?”

 

Sherlock paused to consider if she was being generous or if it was a trap but her one of voice only reflected love. “Yes, actually I do. But not because I don’t enjoy being here with you,” he said cautiously.

 

“Is there a train tonight?” she asked. 

 

“11:04 pm. Are you up to travelling?” Sherlock asked. “We could stay until morning.”

 

“Yes, I’m up for travelling. My ass isn’t that sore,” she giggled and finally pried herself out of his arms.

 

Sherlock smirked. “Is that a complaint?”

 

“Noooo, not at all,” she said with a laugh.

 

*************

 

They got to the train station just in time and soon acquired a private cabin so they could be comfortable on the ride home. “I left a note for Tabitha,” Sherlock announced as he put the luggage on the shelf. “Also thanked her for helping me.”

 

Abigail looked up at him, “Oh, so she was in on it, you sneaky bastard,” she giggled.

 

Sherlock sat down next to her and took her hand into his, “I want to tell you something.” His gaze darkened and she could sense that he was very serious.

 

Abigail looked at him, searching his face. “Ok.”

 

He patted her hand gently and then brought it up to his lips to kiss it. “I’m sorry I tricked you and I really appreciate that you have allowed us to go home early because if I had to sit through another one of those classes, I would have lost my mind.”

 

Abigail smiled, “I knew you were at that point,” she said softly. “I just wanted a weekend with you and when I knew you weren’t going to give me that, I kinda wanted to kill you.”

 

Sherlock kissed her hand again, “I will remember that. I should just continue to trick John and not you.”

 

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” she laughed.

 

*******************

 

In the early morning hours, they arrived at Baker Street. Sherlock had to wake Abigail up in the cab before they could go inside. “Abby?” he asked as she collapsed on the bed. “Do you think…”

 

“Go,” she said, knowing either a case or an experiment was beckoning him. “Whatever it is you are dying to do, go.”

 

Sherlock gave her an energetic kiss and ran out of the house, happy to be back to his work. Abigail giggled as she pulled the duvet over her head. “Well, atleast I can make him happy sometimes,” she thought to herself.


End file.
